


Hot Chocolate

by FoxLight



Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [12]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hot Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight
Summary: Hot chocolate, and a peeping tom.
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Series: The Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/753342
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meg13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg13/gifts).



> Answer to Megan0013's request on Tumblr. Enjoy!

Barbara bundled herself against a heavy breeze coming in off the mountains, scarf flowing like a blue banner behind her steps. The morning radio had warned of a rare “Canadian Clipper” that was to drift from the Pacific into Arcadia Oaks, and as predicted, the temperature had dropped from balmy to bracing within the span of hours. Despite donning a coat, she found herself shivering against the sudden chill, closing her eyes until the blast ran its course. Walter, at first, had prompted that they stay indoors at their usual cafe, but the small space and crowded line dissuaded the notion. With barely over an hour before her shift, there had been no time to wait.

“I’ve another old haunt around the corner,” He’d suggested, green eyes glimmering like snow-frosted blades of grass. “They’re not so good at tea, but they’ve hot chocolate like you’ve never known. It’s just a shack, however. No seating.” 

Trepidation loomed in his voice as he eyed her reddened nose and cheeks, but it had been a week wince they’d last seen each other, and she was going to be damned before she let the weather get in the way of their tea date. 

“Lead the way,” she hooked an arm around his elbow, smiling when his chest puffed as they walked along the sidewalk. 

Minutes later, the doctor watched his long legs stride away from the serving window, feet pointed in her direction as he rolled his steps to ensure that no liquid spilled over the edges of the two paper beverage cups he held aloft. Two matching blobs of whipped cream jiggled over the tops, trying earnestly to stay in place. 

“So,” he sat down on the edge of the bench, gingerly handing her one of the cups. “Are you ready to try the finest cup of cocoa this side of the Atlantic.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she chortled, “It can’t be _that_ good."

“I’m serious.” He admonished. “The Blackbird Cafe has been in business for some time, and they’ve perfected the art. They use powdered chocolate, not cocoa, and it makes a world of difference.” His voice lingered richly on his words, dipping just so. “You’ll notice the homemade marshmallow cream on top. “It’s an absolute delight.”

“Alright, well. If you’re wrong, you owe me a bubble bath later.”

The sudden thought of her nude form peeking out from beneath the waterline sent all manner of thrills.

“In that case, you’re going to hate it,” he amended.

An elbow to his rib-cage found him chortling alongside her, revelling in a moment that was so very far removed from his other life—his true life.

“Okay, okay.” She said, trying to suppress giggles as her lips journeyed towards the rim. 

“Do take care.” Walter warned from her periphery. “It’s quite hot.”

“You or the cocoa?

“Hmm?” he intoned, half-distracted with his own cup before he caught the coyness in her eyes.

She made a sizzling “Tcssssh ” sound as she pressed a finger to his forearm.

“That was awful, Barbara”

“Woo,” she sucked her finger, feigning pain, “I might have to check into the burn unit when I get to work.”

“You’ll have to have a proper sizzle, first.”

“Oh, will I?” She raised a brow, to which he laughed.

Revenge came with the glint in his eyes, and the tilt of a challenging smirk. 

She merely sipped her chocolate, tongue darting out to catch any lingering cream. “Mmmmmm,” she intoned, voice lingering richly on the note, to which he nearly dropped his cup. When their eyes met again, his pupils were blown. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance, “how does it rate?”

“Barring any sentimental attachment I have towards Jim’s recipe? Pretty darn good. It’s not tooth-achingly sweet, and the marshmallow _is_ amazing. We’ve always used the store bought puffs.”

“Those have their place. You can’t exactly roast this off of a bonfire.” He sipped his cocoa, and then smiled down at her. “Do you know I once ate an entire bag?”

“No way, Mr. Fancy-pants.” She shook her head, leaning her shoulder against his. “Next you’re going to tell me you eat frosted cereal.”

"It was all sport,” he carried on, “part of a pep rally. What they didn’t know was that I was part t-” _Confound it!_ “Uh—troglodyte.” 

She raised a brow, “Err, well I bet Jim would have laughed his socks off at that one.”

“He did. It was during his first year. I believe I gained his respect that day.”

With the words, his face went sour, memories surfacing of that troubled creature near the edge of his classroom, scrawny and unnaturally kind. Those days, he’s wanted so badly to levy the child’s worries, and had even taken a proactive role in filling the gaps a deadbeat father had left. Now, in the end, Atlas only carried more weight. 

“Hey,” her voice cut through him. A small hand found his shoulder. “We’ll get there again, okay?”

Finding the hand, he brought it to his lips. 

“Let’s hope, love.”

A strand of silence found them smiling at each other. She sat back and nursed her drink. 

“This is definitely taking the edge off the chill,” she said, just as the frigid fingers of a draft swept by. She curled into herself, trying with one hand to tug length out of a scarf that had already reached its maximum amount of wraps while balancing her cup with the other. ”Okay, I spoke too soon,” a hand shoved itself into her armpit. “How is it you’re only wearing one jacket?”

“A cold heart doesn’t require much heat.”

“Walt, seriously,” she narrowed her gaze, the doctor shining through. “You’re going to freeze.”

He pecked her on the cheek. “You’ve been in California too long, darling.”

 _“Walter”_ Her pout sparked laughter, and he suppressed the urge to kiss the wrinkles it made around her nose.

“Here,” he spread one side of his jacket open, wrapping both it and his arm around her. The proof was in the pudding. “You’ll find that I am plenty warm.”

“What are you, part furnace?” Her arm came around his waist, sending shivers up his spine.   
  
They amused themselves with watching the passers-by, as well as a stray blackbird that seemed intent on chirping at them from the ground. 

“We must be near her nest.” Barbara yawned languidly from somewhere near his armpit when it wouldn’t be shooed away. It fluttered off for a moment, only to return to lay a berry at her feet. Two more rounds saw a stick and a feather joining the display, before it resumed its chirping. 

“Strange,” Walter tried again to shoo the creature with his foot, reluctant to move from their cozy roost. 

"I see where the cafe gets its name," she said as her own foot joined his. "Go on, birdie,” Again, it flew off; this time not to return. 

“All creatures listen to you.” His voice was low, speculative.

“Except teenagers.” The feeling of her forehead nuzzling against his chest sent sparks. Lazily, she sat up and downed the dredges of her cocoa. Then, grabbing his wrist, she checked his watch. “Ugh, I thought so.” 

“Never enough time,” he admonished.

She puffed her cheeks in frustration, but then looked up at him, eyes alight with the spark of some thought.

“Hey,” she pointed to her upper lip, “You have some marshmallow.”

His tongue darted out to save the day. “Gone?” 

“Not yet,” she bit her lip. 

Next, his sleeve had a go. “What about now?”

Her red hair shook. “Here, let me--” Without warning she slid her mouth against his.

The changeling’s moan of surprise melted quickly into delight. A blast of air swept past, whipping her red locks out of their moorings to mix with his salt-and-pepper strands. It drew them closer, and he grasped her jaw to deepen the kiss. 

Without checking her handiwork, she withdrew and smiled. “Got it.”

He huffed in exasperation, though his traitor mouth tugged upward. “Was there even anything there in the first place?”

“Was there?” She raised her brow coquettishly.

“What a rascal.”

“You like it.”

“I do.”

She laughed, bell-like, as he brushed his nose against hers, settling in to steal another kiss.

 _Click_ , came a sound from somewhere close, _click_

“Ha!” came a sound from behind the bush. “That little butt-snack is gonna pass out when he sees this! Oh, yeah, Steve. Who’s the man?”

With the force of a provoked tiger, Walter spun around, eyes threatening to start wildfires as he scanned for the imp whose voice he recognized. Surely, the teen wasn’t _this_ idiotic. Surely, there was homework to do. Surely, any number of activities sparked more interest than peeping on one’s principal. Surreptitiously, what was left of Walter’s cocoa found its way onto his pants. He squeaked. 

“Oh!” the doctor shouted. “Oh! Are you burnt?”

As if the warm liquid trickling down his manhood wasn’t enough; enter Barbara dabbling at his trousers. 

Walter rose with a yelp, dashing away from the hand before assumptions could be drawn, and then spun around to face his perpetrator with an unholy scowl. “Mr. Palchuck,” he crossed his arms, fighting to look intimidating with splashes of cocoa on his trousers. “Are you _spying_ on me?”

“Oh no, dude,” Steve failed to hide his snickering. “Uh, Sir, I mean, principal. I was totally not spying on you.”

“Then what _are_ you doing?” His finger tapped against his elbow.

“Uh, duh. I was spying on Jim’s mom! Dude, he’s like, my arch-nemesis, and he’s _such_ a mama’s-boy. What better way to get at him than through his mom? 

Walter opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. Could he really scold this boy for committing the same crime. He shared a glance with Barbara before he shut his eyes to hide their glow. The Janus Order was different. There were lives at stake--his bretheren’s lives. This was simple adolescent bullying; an entirely different venue. _Entirely,_ he thought, despondent.

“This is absolutely inappropriate, and uncalled for!” He finally growled, pointing in emphasis. “After school tomorrow, detention. I’ll be stopping by for a little chat.”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” The boy whined, eyes desperate. “I’m not even at school!”

“Oh, yes I can.” The cold breeze running against his trousers did nothing to stave his annoyance. “Now hand me that phone.”

Steve tucked his phone behind his back. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“You took pictures of us. You’re bullying Jim! I think you’ve done quite a bit.”

“What do you care?” The boy sniffed indignantly. “Lake doesn’t like you anyways. In fact, as amazing as it sounds, I think he hates you even more than he hates me.” He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. “Which is, as I said, _amazing._ I saw it myself when we were in your office.” 

“ _Again?"_ Barbara blinked, taken aback, and then palmed her forehead. “Ugh.”

“The bodily function jokes, Barbara.” Walter clarified before protests mounted. “We discussed it.” 

“Oh, right.” She said, shoulders unclenching. 

“Phone.” Walter opened his palm to the boy, jaw clenching. “Now.”

The boy crossed his arms, turning to the side with a dramatic flair. “Make me, old man.”

“Hey!” Barbara shouted before Walter could boil over. “Okay, okay, calm down.” She placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Steve, isn’t it?” Her blue gaze found the boy’s. “Yeah, sweetheart, come here for a second so we don’t violate any HIPPA laws.”

She led the teenager a few paces away; out of earshot by human standards. Walter, of course, wasn’t human. “Remember that time a couple of weeks ago,” he overheard her, “when you came into the clinic because you’d eaten too many beets and didn’t realize what it did to your poop. I let you out without writing up a chart, or billing anything, and we even agreed that your mom didn’t have to know about it because it wasn’t a concern.” She took a steadying breath. “Now, I did you a big favor that night, so I’m hoping you’ll return that favor by letting me delete those photos. Will you do that for me?”

His eyes darted to Strickler and back, then his shoulders sunk. 

“Sure,” Steve handed her the phone.

 _All creatures_ Walter thought.

“Thank you,” she fiddled with the phone for a few moments before handing it back. “There, now I’m sure Walt-uh Principal Strickler will be glad to forget giving you detention tomorrow as long as you promise not to do it again.”

“Really?” he lit up.

She looked to Walter, who heaved a sigh. “Fine, but I expect you in my office before school starts tomorrow. We’re going to set up a meeting with your guidance counselor. I’ve a feeling I know why you’ve been acting out even more than usual.”

“Okay, Mr. Strickler.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Try to stay out of my ER, okay, kid?”

“Yeah, no promises,” he grinned, and then strode away.

“Guidance counselor?” She asked as they both watched the teen disappear into the throng of buildings. 

“Ah, well,” the changeling finally felt his muscles relaxing. “Jim isn’t the only one who’s been slighted a good father. Unfortunately, Mr. Palchuck is still dealing with his. He and Jim have more in common than they realize. Each sees traces of himself in the other, even if it is subconscious. Jim is sympathetic, while Steve resents.” He looked down at her, the corner of his lip tugging skywards. “I’m impressed, you know. You have such a way with others, and you handled that far better than I did.”

“Well, I had selfish motives,” she pulled out her phone before sitting on the bench. He followed.

Pulling up her photo gallery, she scrolled through the pictures. “I took a moment to send them to myself before destroying all the evidence.”

“Have you considered a career in espionage?”

“Nope,” she said, placing a kiss onto his neck before settling back against him, “I get enough excitement in the ER.” She continued to scroll. “These are cute. Ha! It must have caught the reflection in your eye in this one. You look possessed.”

Green eyes looked down to the yellow ones on the screen, and he cursed himself for his lack of control. What, precisely, did he intend to do if he ever slipped entirely? Protocol demanded that he take her life but that was...out of the question. Would he imprison her, threaten her, resort to blackmail, do any number of things he done to any number of innocents in the past. 

Shifting to look at her, Walter noted the blue gaze full of weariness, that unassuming smile, this ragged creature whose existence demanded only that he commit the most heinous crime a changeling could commit.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“You okay?” her soft voice rose past a swallow.

“Yes,” his nose was running against the cold, and he wiped it crudely with his sleeve, dredging his mind for an excuse. “Wet trousers are dreadful things.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” She looped her scarf around his neck, pulling him closer. "I know exactly how to treat those.”

“After work, then?” He squeezed her hip. 

“Yeah,” her smile went lopsided, “but...here.” Gently, she grasped his jaw and guided it towards her own. “Just a small dose to get you through.” 

“Tcssssh,” he hissed when their noses bumped together, delighting in her laugh. And as their tongues met, he forgot why he was ever disturbed.


End file.
